


With Love

by Tafka



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26204524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tafka/pseuds/Tafka
Summary: Delrin Barris and Herah Adaar have a meeting of the minds
Relationships: Delrin Barris/Female Adaar
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	With Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queen_scribbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_scribbles/gifts).



The newly-minted Knight-Commander Barris finished his circuit of the Templar tower and, seeing that everything was in order, continued on to the library before retiring for the night. His reasons for the detour were twofold, first, to check in on the young mage, Willit, who was studying there, and secondly to find a new book to read. Delrin had already finished reading through the (admittedly paltry) selection of books on Ferelden history, and was planning to move on to the Free Marches. The books on that subject spanned only a third of a dusty shelf, so he estimated he could run through them in a couple of weeks.

With a smile, he remembered his mother’s gentle teasing about his voracious appetite for books, especially non-fiction. As far back as he could remember, he loved to read, and would always read himself to sleep at night. Perhaps he could have become a scholar, but when his father sent him to the Templar Order as a boy, he became as adept at Templar skills as he had been at study.

He found Willit hard at work at a battered desk in a poorly-lit corner of the library, with his nose nearly pressed against the page of an equally battered tome. “You should light another candle,” Delrin commented, “that can’t be good for your eyes.”

“I did have another candle,” Willit replied bashfully, “but it burned out. Anyway, I’m almost finished with this chapter!”

Delrin reflected, not for the first time, that the young mage reminded himself of himself at that age. He knew he had often been chided for reading with insufficient light and responded with “Just one more chapter!” A part of him wondered what his life might have been like if he had been a mage as well. Would he have ended up as Willit had, accused of being an abomination and nearly beaten by a mob? Or might he have been even less fortunate? It didn’t bear thinking of. What did merit his attention was the present, and the young man before him, who had been taken in by the Inquisition, and saved from an ignoble fate. 

He stayed and chatted with Willit for a few minutes more, about the elemental theory book as well as how Willit was settling into Skyhold, before Barris excused himself to find his own book. The books of history were separated by topic on a lower level of the library, one less frequented by the mage apprentices, who were, as a whole, rather frightened of the Tevinter Magister who had set up his study on that level. Delrin found the man to be quite undeserving of such apprehension, especially since he was a fellow devotee of the written word. 

After Delrin picked out his book for the night, he decided to stop by Dorian’s alcove. Since being promoted to Knight-Commander, he felt he ought to do more to outwardly make a show of companionship with the prominent mages of the Inquisition, and if perhaps his presence made the apprentices less afraid of Dorian, the better.

Dorian was not at his alcove, however, but the Inquisitor was. The Herald was seated in the upholstered chair by the window, and rose when he approached, so that he was once again confronted by her incredible height. 

“Oh, you’re not Dorian,” she said, as Delrin saluted. 

“Inquisitor. I’m afraid not.” He did not detect any disappointment in her comment, but then he found Adaar’s expressions very hard to interpret.

She tilted her head to the side, and looked at him somewhat appraisingly. “It’s good that you’re here, though, I wanted to talk with you.” She gave him half a smile, and he mirrored her. 

“Of course, Inquisitor.”

“Ah,” She winced, “You don’t need to-- You can call me by name, I mean.” When he just looked at her, she offered, “It’s Herah. My name is. We’ve already almost died together, so...”

“Of course, Herah. What did you want to talk about?”

“I was wondering, could you tell me about the Circles? I would really appreciate your view on…” She waved her hand in little loops, “...everything.”

Delrin raised his eyebrows, “Everything covers a lot of ground.”

“Oh!” she seemed to suddenly realize something, “It is very late, I’m sorry!” As if the passage of time was somehow her fault. “Maybe we can talk another time? Maybe over dinner tomorrow?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

* * *

Dinner went well, as did their discussion. It went so well that it became dinner on the next day, and the next as well. It became long talks in the library, and in the tower, and in the training yard. Delrin found that Adaar was very open to his thoughts on the Circles, and the Templar order, and she shared her thoughts on proposed reforms as well. He found that they were very well aligned in many of these thoughts, and in others, Adaar’s unique background gave her insight that he may never have thought of himself.

“I don’t understand the Harrowing,” she said, shaking her head. “Everyone assures me it is necessary, but I just can’t seem to stop thinking that it is just… cruel.”

“I have thought the same thing,” Delrin admitted, wincing as he thought of the Harrowings he had seen. Although he had attended only a few in his tenure as a young Templar, and (Maker be thanked) never seen a failed one, he hated the entire institution. The young mage was always terrified, unknowing of what was coming, and he could hardly think they would be less terrified if they did know. He also could not fault those who were told that they must travel into the fade and face a demon, and then chose Tranquility instead. (He could definitely fault those who created the choice, though.) 

Delrin recalled to Adaar the feelings he had as one witnessing the Harrowings, and she looked even more troubled. 

“Is it different in Tevinter, though? They can’t possibly do the same to their mages?” she asked.

“You may do better to ask Dorian about that. From my own readings I know they have their own Harrowing ritual, but it is kept as secret as ours from outsiders.” He thought a minute, then continued, “I will do more research on the subject, to supplement what you learn from Dorian.”

Herah nodded seriously. “Thank you for all your help on this, Delrin. I know you have your duties, and I have been keeping you from them. I will try to be more mindful of your time in the future.”

Although he did not know why, her words made him feel bereft already. “It’s not at all an imposition,” he struggled to break the formality he normally spoke to Herah with by habit. “I do really enjoy our talks.”

“You do?” she asked, sounding something like hopeful.

“Yes. I would also like them if we spoke on other subjects.”

She smiled, small and shy. “I would, as well.”

He left that conversation with a tiny feeling that something had started, and also a feeling that he must visit the library.

* * *

Delrin found himself with an armful of books, looking at an impressively sized tome that rested on a high shelf, just beyond his reach. He’d have to put away at least three of the books he was carrying now if he did not want to be overencumbered, but the large book called to him. A History of Vashoth Culture and Language called to him with illuminated text on the spine. He already had plenty of books on the Northern Chantry and Tevinter law, but maybe this book would be the “other subjects” that he could talk to Herah about. His appetite for knowledge was piqued, and so he placed his other books in a careful pile, and cast about for a ladder to reach the new book.

“Need a hand?” Herah’s voice came from behind him, surprising but not startling.

She did not wait for him to respond, but reached up to grab the book he had been looking at. The action brought her in close proximity to him, so close that he could feel the warmth of her. She brought the book down, between them, still standing mere inches away, and lowered her head to read the title.

Her horns almost bracketed his head when she did so, and she read, “A History of Vashoth Culture? Interesting, I didn’t know there were any books on the subject.”

He swallowed, “I find there is almost any subject to be found written down somewhere.”

“I suppose it makes sense, we’re oh-so-very interesting.” She looked up and smirked, and he smiled back immediately. Her smiles were contagious. She leaned back after a moment, and offered the book to him. 

He found himself flustered, no longer hyperaware of the difference in their height, and feeling somewhat silly for noticing at all. Herah didn’t come off as intimidating at all because of it, but instead it was quite endearing. Much of what she did was endearing. Delrin took the book, and thanked her, perhaps in a softer tone than he would usually use, and she continued on to see Dorian while he continued on to visit Willit, and to think to himself about how he had felt in that moment.

* * *

The Vashoth book was rubbish. Delrin could tell that on his own, but Herah confirmed it when they dined together the next day. Half fanciful myths, half vicious rumor-mongering, it would be easier for Herah to point out what the author got right than to say what he got wrong, and she did, with great relish.

“Well we _do_ eat food, and cook it too,” she said of the chapter on cuisine, “but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any of these recipes.” She pointed at a particular one for roasted seed cake, “Though that one seems Rivaini, and the soup on the next page is definitely from the Anders, so maybe the author just assumed all Vashoth eat the same food everywhere?”

“You should publish a rebuttal.”

“Oh yes, A Culinary History of the Adaars of Cumberland, I think it will be a bestseller.”

“I would certainly love to read it.” 

Adaar tilted her head in the way she often did when he said something that especially interested her. “You really will read anything, won’t you?”

“Well…” he couldn’t deny it, especially after some of the drivel he had read, “Yes, but that’s not the case here. I would read your book because you’re the one that wrote it.”

“That’s… very sweet.” She bit her lip in thought, “I would read your book, too.”

“My book? But I’ve never written anything.”

“You could though. You know so many things, and are so thoughtful, and I think everyone would just love your book.” She nodded decisively

Delrin felt a warmth rising in his chest, and, on a moment’s impulsiveness, reached out to squeeze Herah’s hand. “Thank you.”

* * *

Now Delrin was the one hunched over his notes while a candle burned low in a shadowy corner of the library. Willit was enlisted as his enthusiastic research assistant, and flitted around the stacks, glowing with the importance of his task. 

Delrin’s pen flew across the page, writing almost as fast as he could think, as he laid out his own memories and opinions of the Templar order and the mage Circles. Sometimes the words were hard to pull from his mind, and other times he splattered ink in his haste to get them out. 

It was half memoir, half history, and these things blended together into a call for reform to both systems. He talked about every part of it with Herah, and she was his support through the entire process. She was also the one that found him a publisher (through Varric) and was there for him when he prepared to send the precious parcel out for editing.

He felt strangely bereft when he finally handed it over to the messenger, and, as if she could tell he needed it, Adaar unexpectedly enveloped him in a hug. He immediately brought his arms around her as well, and they stayed that way for minutes, as it became less about his worry for the manuscript, and more about the closeness between them.

Neither of them commented on it when they broke apart, instead they continued on to their now-nightly dinner together, and spoke on other subjects.

* * *

Delrin hadn’t realized that his book had actually been published, until he was approached by no less than three different people wanting to debate its merits with him. The librarian confirmed that a number of copies had arrived earlier in the week, on the Inquisitor’s orders. He found it odd, then, that Herah had not mentioned it to him.

That evening, he asked her about it over dinner. She seemed flustered, which confused him even more.

“I haven’t known what to say, I’m so flattered, and this is so unexpected…”

“Oh.” He realized now why she hadn’t said anything. He had thought about leaving out the dedication entirely, but eventually settled on one he thought she would appreciate. _To Herah, the one I can talk to about anything, I dedicate this work, with love._ But now it seemed she didn’t appreciate it at all. His heart sank. He couldn’t meet her eyes. The last part had been added at the last minute, but he had thought-- well it didn’t matter what he thought now.

“Delrin, I said it was unexpected, I didn’t mean it was unwanted.”

His head snapped up to find that she had moved closer to him without his noticing. “It’s not?”

She smiled, “Not unwanted at all.” And then she stopped smiling, and she leaned down, and kissed him.


End file.
